


No Mistakes, Just Happy Accidents

by IAmTheUnsub



Series: Reddie Au [5]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dumb Bitch Disease, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Wants to be a Dad, F/M, Gay Richie Tozier, Gen, M/M, Multi, Reunions, Richie Tozier Is A Dad, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheUnsub/pseuds/IAmTheUnsub
Summary: Richie and Eddie are 25, hopelessly in love and moving into their own apartment in NYC after Richie gets his big break. Everything is perfect. Until it isn't.Eddie wants kids, and when he finds out Richie doesn't, they break up and Eddie walks out of his life and into the arms of someone who can give him what he thinks he wants.Three years later, Richie turns up to their high school reunion with a little surprise in tow.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/OFC
Series: Reddie Au [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545535
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tweet from @Derryfacts2 on twitter.  
> No trigger warnings as of yet but this might become a little steamy later if I'm feeling brave.  
> Help me get caffeinated @ Ko-fi.com/iamtheunsub

**5th August 2017**

After a solid three hours of lugging boxes into the apartment, the moving van was finally empty. Richie, with his final box weighing his arms down, stumbled up the stairs and in the front door. He carried on down the hall and nudged the door to their new office open with his hip and dumped the box on the floor. 

"Fuck, I need to get back to the gym", he groaned, his back cracking and popping disconcertingly as he straightened up.

" _'Back'_ suggests that you actually went more than once, babe", Eddie snarked, carrying his own box into the room, placing it, much more gently, on the ground next to Richie's. 

"Oof! Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!", Richie crowed, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and pulling him in to kiss him on the forehead. Eddie struggles playfully for a second before he settled down, sinking into Richie's chest and dropping his hands into the other man's back pockets. "Remind me again why we couldn't let the others help us move? Ben could have carried all those boxes up here so fast with his fucking ridiculous bodybuilder arms".

"I don't want them to see it until it's perfect. I still cant believe this place is ours", he muttered, lips brushing Richie's neck. 

"Hmm, you better believe it, Eds. You're dating a bigshot movie-star-slash-screenwriter now", Richie teased, smile stretching across his cheeks as he felt Eddie huff an amused little breath into his neck. 

"You got lucky, Tozier", Eddie insisted, even as he nuzzled closer. Richie tightened his grip and began to rock them back and forth slowly.

"Yeah, well, me and my luck got us a three bedroom penthouse in Manhattan...even if it's one with a temporarily broken elevator", Richie grumbled, looking around the room. At the matching wooden desks pressed against opposite walls so they wouldn't get as distracted as they would if they were close enough to play footsy. Richie's whiteboard, covered in script fragments in his own scrawl, took up a huge portion of the room. He knew the office coffee machine (Eddie got too sucked into his work to go all the way to the kitchen for his caffeine fix) was packed away in the box he had just dropped and their matching coffee cups were in Eddie's. He count wait to put them out on their desks and annoy the shit out of Eddie by mixing them up and _'accidentally'_ making his own sugary concoction in Eddie's mug ( _"The taste lingers, Richie!"_ ). 

"Three bedrooms, Can't wait until they're filled", Eddie sighed wistfully against Richie's chest. 

"Wow, Spaghetti, if I knew you were so excited to decorate, I'd have taken you to IKEA already", Richie laughed, picturing Eddie running around the huge store with fabric swatches and paint samples while Richie himself trailed behind eating meatballs and pushing the cart.

"Shut up, Rich! You know what i mean!" Eddie laughed, slapping gently at Richie's chest. Richie found himself panicking, the stomach-dropping type of panic that overtakes your very being when you realise you've forgotten an important date, like a birthday or anniversary.

"Uhh, no, I really don't", Richie decided to bite the bullet and accept whatever lecture he was due from Eddie.

"Kids, Richie. I'm talking about kids", Eddie told him, leaning back slightly to look the taller man in the eye.

"Kids...like, babysitting Ben and Bev's?" Richie asks, remembering how Bev had confided in them that she and Ben were going to start trying soon.

"No, _our_ kids, Richie", Eddie replies, earnestly confused expression on his face. 

"Eddie, babes, I know moving is stressful but I didn't think it'd frazzle your brain. We don't have kids", Richie joked, desperately trying to gloss over the newfound tension in the room with a strangled laugh. He just kept swaying them and waited with bated breath for Eddie to laugh with him and admit that he was messing with Richie and wanted to turn their pare bedrooms into a first aid station and a home gym or something. 

"Well, not yet, obviously", Eddie scoffed, dashing Richie's hopes.

"YET?!" he squawked, much louder than he'd intended to. He could feel his nervous stomach preparing to rebel and he could do was stop their movement and will himself not to vomit.

"Richie... you want kids, right?" Eddie asked, searching his boyfriend's face for reassurance that they were on the same page. He found none.

"I... no, Eds, I really don't want kids", Richie whispered, serious for once. 

Eddie pulled away from him completely at that, taking a step back. Richie tried to reach for him, but he just shook his head and shoved his hands into his own pockets. 

"Richie. _I_ want kids", Eddie implored him, speaking slowly and clearly, with conviction.

"Why?!", Richie exclaimed, honestly confused. 

Richie watched as Eddie's shoulder rose up to shield his neck, a telltale sign of his anxiety ramping up. Then, proudly, Richie watched as he took a deep breath and forced them back down again. He could practically see the smaller man counting his breaths before he spoke again. "Rich, I've always wanted kids. I want to be a dad, to give a kid a good life. I want... I want to be better than my mother", he explained, eyes wide and pleading.

"Eddie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I don't want that. I've never wanted that. I don't want to be responsible for a whole human life! I'd fuck them up, Eds! You know I would!",Richie reached for Eddie again and tried not to take it personally when he took another step away from him. 

"Don't touch me right now Richie. This isn't something you can just soothe away. It's my fucking life plan, not an anxiety attack!", Eddie snapped, though to his credit he looked like he regretted it immediately. 

Richie just threw both his hands up, palms facing Eddie in a gesture of placation, and stayed quiet.

"Richie, Sweetheart", Eddie started, in his _'I'm-Right-Richie's-Wrong'_ tone of voice. It was vaguely condescending and Eddie always denies it's existence. Usually it was used for universal good, like stopping Richie from microwaving metal or taking a shitty role. But Richie felt himself getting defensive this time. He didn't want kids and he refused to let Eddie talk him into it with his doe eyes and good-natured nagging. 

"No! Eddie, I cant do this! I cant ruin a kid like my parents ruined me. I don't even know what a good parent looks like. We can't do that to a child, babe!" Richie tried to appeal to Eddie's logical side. 

"Are you saying I wouldn't be a good dad?", Eddie asked, voice full of hurt and offence. Had Richie been in his right mind and not blinded by panic, he would have recognised that tone as the warning sign it was.

"Are you kidding me, Eddie? How could either of us raise a kid right? We both had shitty parents! Mine barely know my name and your mom is a fucking psychopath! We would ruin a kid", Richie hollered, suddenly finding it hard it breathe. Hi mind was racing through the long list of ways he could ruin a child's life, all the ways a kid can get hurt or die. He tried to calm his heaving chest and take measured breaths, just like Eddie had taught him. It took him a solid few minutes to calm himself enough to speak again, much longer then it usually took with Eddie's help. Though Eddie didn't help this time.

"Eddie. Baby, let's just put a pin in this for now, okay? We can go order Thai food and dig the Switch out of whatever fucking box it ended up in. Just like we planned, yeah?" Richie tried to compromise, smiling reassuringly. Eddie's resolve wavered and it looked like he was going to agree for a second, hands twitching in his pockets, desperate to reach for his boyfriend. Then his face hardened again and he shook his head.

"No"

"No?", Richie asked, dumbfounded.

"No. I need an answer from you now, Richie. I want kids. I've always wanted kids, and I want them with you", Eddie pled, finally pulling his hands out of his pockets to reach for Richie. Richie took his hands and squeezed them tightly. After taking a deep, steadying breath, he poured his heart out to the man he loved.

"Eddie... I love you. So much. I would give you anything. I'd burn this whole building to the ground with everything I own inside just to keep you warm. I'd never get onstage again, I'd go into seclusion and start selling insurance over the phone or something! I'd shave my head and change my name to Engelbert Humperdink if you asked me to. I would do literally anything for you, but I can't do this. I can't give you kids, Eddie, but I can give you me, and I hope that's enough", Richie squeezed Eddie's hands again and smiled hopefully at him. 

The room was silent, the walls themselves seemed to be holding their breath and waiting for Eddie's answer. The air was charged and full of tension. Richie was sure it would dissipate any moment now. Eddie would tell him he loved him. They would get a dog or something, maybe build up to this conversation again in a few years. They were only twenty-five, for Christ's sake! Eddie opened his mouth to speak and Richie could already taste the Thai food. 

"It's not. I'm sorry, Richie, but it's not enough", Eddie told him, voice dripping with resignation. Richie felt his whole world tilt on it's axis. He didn't know how to fix this, what to say, what to do. Eddie let go of his hands and turned to leave the room. Richie just stood there dumbstruck for a second before he stumbled out into the hall after him. 

At the end of the hall, Eddie emerged from their new bedroom with an overnight bad slung over his shoulder and a rolling suitcase at his side. 

"Eddie?", Richie was too scared to be embarrassed by how tiny his voice was. 

"Guess it's lucky we hadn't started unpacking yet, huh? Eddie replied, grimacing. He didn't meet Richie's gaze as he started towards the front door. 

"Eddie? Eddie please don't do this", Richie begged, following behind Eddie. 

The smaller man didn't reply, too afraid that his voice would crack if he tried. He opened the door, then fumbled with his key chain for a second before he managed to detach the front door key he'd placed there only hours before.

"Eddie, please! Let's sleep on this!", Richie desperately flung his arm across the open doorway. 

"There's nothing to sleep on, Richie. I want children and you don't. We aren't compatible anymore"

"Eddie, you're being ridiculous! I love you and I know you love me. You're just going to walk out on a three year relationship because I don't want kids?!" Richie exclaimed incredulously, feeling anger start to overwhelm the fear inside of him.

"Don't be so fucking dismissive, Richie!", Eddie snapped.

"I'm not being dismissive! You can't force me to have children with you, Eddie!" Richie yelled back. 

Eddie deflated a little.

"I know that. That's why I'm leaving. I shouldn't have to force you, Richie. You deserve to live your life the way you want to and I deserve to be with someone who wants to have kids with me" Eddie tried to explain, all the fight seemingly drained out of him.

"It;s not about you, Eddie. I don;t want kids with anyone. But I want a life with you!" Richie sobbed, making a desperate last attempt to salvage his relationship with the only man he'd ever love. 

"I know that. But just this once, I'm making it about me, Rich. I'll have the movers come for my stuff as soon as I find a new place", he raised his hand to tenderly cup Richie's cheek, thumb stroking through a fresh tear track. Richie leaned into the touch, unsure if it would be the last one. After a second, Eddie pulled away again. Then, without another word, he was out the door and out of Richie's life. Richie was so stunned that he didn't move for a long moment after the door clicked softly shut. By the time he'd scrambled out into the hallway, Eddie was long gone. 

**6th August 2017**

After hours of waiting up for Eddie, calling his phone repeatedly and even calling around a few hotels to see if he'd checked in (they wouldn't tell him anyway) Richie finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep at about five in the morning. He was curled up uncomfortably on the armchair facing the door. The cramping in his muscles was better than the bone-deep ache he'd felt when he tried to climb into their shared bed. He never managed to fall deeply asleep, convinced that every tiny noise was Eddie coming home to him. Richie was terrified that If Eddie knocked on the door and he was too deeply asleep to open it in time, Eddie would leave again.

So, when his cell hone rang at about eleven in the morning, Richie shot straight up and made a dive for it, toppling himself onto the floor. 

"Eddie?!" he panted breathlessly into the receiver.

_"Uh, no. It's Bev"._

"Oh... Hi Bev", Richie replied, as if his heart wasn't crumbling to dust in his chest all over again.

 _"Wow, no need to sound so excited",_ Bev grumbled, _"Where's Eddie?"._

"What?" Richie asked, how did she know? Had Eddie called her?

 _"When you picked up you thought I was Eddie. Is he not home? Is he alright?"_ Bev asked, concern clear in her voice. 

"No... he, uh, he's not here. He..." Richie voice finally gave out and cracked horribly, but he cleared his throat and choked back the tears threatening to fall.

 _"Rich? Richie? Is he hurt? Are you hurt? What's happening?"_ , Bev asked, alarmed. She knew Richie was a crier. She'd seen him cry countless times. He cried at movies, he cried when Ben and Bev got engaged. He had cried a week earlier when the restaurant he picked for lunch didn't have any kosher options for Stan. But she'd never heard him sound like his, as if he was completely broken. 

"He's gone, Bevvy. He left me. I don't think he's coming back", Richie choked out, admitting it out loud suddenly making it feel real. 

_"What the fuck? Richie what happened?"_

Richie just broke down, completely unable to reply as the reality of the situation came crashing down around him. He couldn't bring himself to re-live the conversation enough to explain it to Bev, so he just sobbed down the phone. Great, wracking sobs, so loud that he had to drop the phone and clap his hands over his mouth to try and muffle the noise. He could just barely hear the slightly tinny voice of Bev coming from the discarded phone.

_"Richie? Richie!? BEN! GET IN THE CAR!"_

* * *

When Ben and Bev arrived about a half hour later (Ben definitely having broken some traffic laws), Richie could barely find the strength to pull himself out of his chair to open the door for them. One look at Bev's worried expression had him collapsing into her arms. She guided him back to the couch while Ben headed to the kitchen in search of booze. This was not the time for healthy coping mechanisms. All he could find was a bottle of champagne tucked away in a corner cabinet with a gift tag attached. It read, _'Richie, I love you so much. I'm so excited to start this new chapter of our lives together. Cheers to us, Eddie xox' ._ Ben frowned at the tag before he removed it form the bottle and made to throw it in the trash. He paused, hand hovering over the trash can, before he thought better of it and pocketed the tag instead. He wrapped the bottom of his shirt around the cork to muffle the sound of him popping the cork, feeling like it made the drink feel less celebratory somehow. He dug around in the meticulously labelled boxes and pulled out three mugs, then replaced the one he knew to be Eddie's with a plain white mug instead. He filled the mugs and carried them back through to the living room, where Richie was silently crying, staring blankly at the wall with his head resting on Bev's shoulder. He placidly took the mug when Ben offered it and took a sip. His face screwed up in confusion at the taste before he looked around the room at the still-packed boxes and realisation dawned on his face. 

"Well, welcome to the new apartment, I guess", he croaked in a watery voice, raising his mug in a mockery of a toast. 

"Rich, what happened?" Ben asked gently. 

"We, uh, we fought. It was pretty bad" he replied. 

"you've fought before, Richie. That doesn't mean he's left you. Hell, you spent your whole teenage years fighting", Bev tried to reassure him, but Richie just shook his head adamantly.

"No, he's gone. He took his bags. He said he's sending the movers back for the rest of his stuff", Richie gestured vaguely around the room. 

Ben and Bev followed his sweeping gesture to examine the boxes, all marked with the signs of a shared life. Eddie's neat handwriting intermingled with Richie's messy scrawl, marking boxes with things like, _'Nintendo, Television, DVDs + EDDIE'S SHITTY CD COLLECTION! IT'S 2017, EDS!!!!'_

"Do you want to talk about it?", Ben asked softly.

"No".

"Do you want me to cuddle you too?"

"...Yes please"

Ben immediately squeezed himself onto the couch on Richie's other side and wrapped an arm around him. There, held between two of his best friends, Richie felt safe enough to fall apart and eventually fall into a deep sleep on Bev's shoulder, trusting them to answer the door if Eddie came home. 

**20th August 2017.**

"This the last of 'em?"

Richie's head snapped up from where he was staring at his own hands. 

"Huh?"

"This the last box?" the mover asked again.

"Uh, yeah. That's them all", he replied, unable to take his eyes off the box in the man's hands. It was labelled _'Tax paperwork 2014-2015_ , so nothing Richie should be overly attached to. He still felt the wild urge to snatch the box back from the mover and force him to bring everything back up into the apartment, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't bring Eddie back, the other man wasn't even responding to his texts anymore. He'd even left the Losers group chat. Richie suspected they'd made a second group chat without him, but Bev had denied it when he asked her.

"All right, I'll get out of your hair then", the mover replied, heading out the door and closing it behind him. 

Richie was left alone, in his empty apartment. It had taken less than three hours to remove all traces of Eddie from the apartment. Richie couldn't bring himself to go through the boxes and separate out their lives, so he'd just sent everything away with the movers. He was left with a box of his own clothes, his own computer and a box of things he couldn't bring himself to part with. He had tucked that box away under his bed while the movers were there, just to make sure it wouldn't get taken accidentally.

After another hour of merely existing in the space he'd hoped to build a future in, Richie finally retreated to ~~their~~ his bedroom. He pulled the box out from under his bed and sorted through it for what felt like the millionth time. He pulled out a strip of photos from their first date, when he had dragged Eddie into a photo booth and found the courage to kiss him for the first time while he was laughing and pulling faces at the camera. He placed the strip gently on the bed in front of him and kept digging through the box, sifting through two tickets to Richie's first movie, the matching rainbow sweatbands they had worn to a pride parade the year before and the little red shorts Eddie had tried to throw out years ago but Richie rescued from the donation pile. His fingers finally closed around a small box, buried right at the bottom. He pulled it out and flipped it open. The ring inside was something Richie had agonised over for months. He had been to what felt like every jewellers in New York and held every ring ever made before he finally settled on this one. It was slim, made from white gold with diamonds set into it the whole way around. It was a level of glamour and luxury that Eddie would never admit he enjoyed, but Richie knew him better, the man wore Gucci loafers, for Christ's sake! The ring was perfect. It should have been perfect. 

But Richie wasn't enough. 

He curled around the ring box and cried himself to sleep, wishing he hadn't packed Eddie's pillows up for him. 

**1st September 2017.**

"Anyone heard from Eddie?" Richie asked, trying to be blase as he sipped at his coffee. He could tell it hadn't worked from the looks the other Losers exchanged. 

"No. I let him know the time and place, but he didn't reply", Bill replied. 

Richie frowned, coffee dates were sacred. The Losers had set aside one day a month without fail since they were teenagers. Eddie had never missed one. Ever. Even when he was held late at work he would facetime Richie and have him prop the phone up on the table so he didn't miss out. They'd had a coffee date in Bill's hospital room when he had his appendix out. They never skipped coffee dates. 

"Maybe he just didn't see the messages", Mike offered. 

"No, he read them, he just didn't reply", Bill replied.

"Seriously Bill?" Stan swatted him, none too gently, on the arm with his menu. 

"What?...oh, sorry Richie", Bill apologised. 

"It's fine", Richie shrugged, adding another packet of sugar to his cup just to have something to do with his hands.

The conversations moved on to the story Bill was working on, but Richie found himself unable to focus. He cycled between looking at his watch, the door of the coffee shop and his phone screen, hoping desperately that Eddie was running late and would walk in the door at any second or text to let them know he was on his way. He'd placed so much weight on this coffee date, hoping to be able to speak to Eddie in person and start to repair what he'd broken. Finally, he couldn't bear the tension any longer and stood up, drawing the eyes of the group. 

"I'm heading out. Can one of you let Eddie know it's safe for him to join you guys now?"

He didn't give any of them a chance to reply before leaving. 

Eddie deserved the Losers. Richie got the apartment, so it was only fair. Eddie had been there first anyway, Richie had only joined them in the fourth grade, Eddie had been friends with Bill and Stan for at least a year before that. On his walk home he left the group chat himself and blocked the numbers of the other Losers. Clean break, it would be better than splintering the group into two, especially when Richie was sure he wouldn't win. 


	2. Kellybean, Carr-bear and Steveo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Richie's home and family, Mike makes a call, Stan takes a deep fucking breath.
> 
> “It’s not fair to her, Richie! It was okay to keep her a secret for a while, when you weren’t exactly America’s sweetheart. You were protecting her then, but now? Man, you’re doing a Disney movie! It’s okay for you to have a kid. Nobody’s gonna’ try to take her from you”
> 
> “I… I don’t know if I can, Steve. I don’t want her in the public eye. She’s safer here, you know?”
> 
> “Safety is overrated Richie. You can’t keep her coddled to keep her safe forever”, Richie had a sudden, sickening image of Sonia Kaspbrak in his head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mention of substance abuse and Sonia being shit as per usual.  
> Caffeinate me @ Ko-fi.com/iamtheunsub

**19 th June 2020**

“Kellybean? Where are you?”

High-pitched giggles rang through the room, clearly attached to the feet sticking out from underneath the kitchen table. Richie just grinned and walked right by them.

“Where oh where could my Kellybean be?” he called out in a singsong tone.

The giggling got louder and the little feet started kicking in mirth. Still, Richie pretended he couldn’t see them.

“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll just have to eat all this ice cream by myself then!” he sighed dramatically and collapsed heavily onto the couch. The giggled turned to shrieking as little Kelly Tozier threw herself out from under the table, toddling towards Richie on chubby little legs. Richie gasped out in faux surprise and swooped in to scoop her off the floor.

“Where were you! I looked _everywhere!_ ” he asked.

“Taba!” she told him, pointing proudly at the kitchen.

“Wow! Under the table? You’re so clever, my little smarty pants, huh?”, Richie asked, smoothing a hand over her hair.

“S’ceem?” she asked, not to be distracted from her goal.

“Sure thing kiddo. You want strawberry or chocolate?” he asked as he carried her back to the table.

“Toclat!” she crowed.

Richie nodded sagely at her and strapped her into her highchair. After making sure she was safe and secure, he got to work gathering his supplies, two bowls, a pint of chocolate ice cream, sprinkles and whipped cream. He placed them all out on the table and scooped the ice cream into the bowls for them, then let Kelly pour her own sprinkles (with guidance, he’d learned that lesson a long time ago). Once the bowls were piled high with sugar, Richie completely neglected his own sundae to feed Kelly. He was so busy spooning bites of her sundae into her mouth and making exaggerated ‘nom nom’ noises in his Cookie Monster voice that he didn’t even notice the front door opening until someone called out from the hallway.

“Rich? You guys home?”

Richie turned towards the doorway, recognising the voice as that of his manager, Steve. “In the kitchen, you want an ice cream sundae?” he called.

“Oh, don’t do this to me! I just came from the gym, man”, Sure enough, Steve rounded the corner a second later in full gym gear. He dropped his bag on the floor and sat down beside Richie. 

“’TEVE!” Kelly screamed as soon as she locked eyes on him.

“Hi, Princess! You having a treat with your dad?” he asked her, switching into what Richie teasingly called his _‘baby talk voice’._ It was soft and high-pitched and the exact same tone of voice he used to use when Richie was too drunk and needed help getting to bed.

“S’CEEM!” Kelly hollered, helpfully dipping her hand onto her bowl and waving it around to show Steve exactly what she meant. Richie, completely used to it, wordlessly grabbed her flailing hand and cleaned it with a napkin.

“Ooh! Can I have a share?” Steve cooed at her. Hilariously, she just shook her head seriously as if he was asking for her most prized possession. Steve pouted at her and grabbed Richie’s abandoned bowl.

“Grabbed your mail on my way up”, he mumbled through his first mouthful, tossing a stack of envelopes at Richie.

“Look at you, full service manager!” Richie teased, leafing through the envelopes until he came across one that didn’t look like the usual bill or junk mail. He held the thick parchment envelope up to show Steve, “What do we think? Death threat? Lock of human hair? Anthrax?” he asked, shaking it like he was listening for a rattle.

“Only one way to find out”, Steve replied, wholly unconcerned.

Richie ripped open the envelope and flipped open the letter inside. Steve watched as the excitement on his face died down into confusion, then disappointment.

“No anthrax?”, he asked.

“Nah, just some stupid ten-year high school reunion thing”, Richie huffed, tossing the envelope onto the table.

“You gonna’ go?”, Steve asked, reaching for more whipped cream.

Richie just sneered at the envelope a little, “Probably not. No reason to head back to that shithole.”

“Up to you man, we can try to work it into your schedule if you change your mind”

“Yeah… oh shit!” Richie realised his why daughter had been much too quiet for the last minute or so. She’d managed to upend her whole bowl of ice cream onto her head. Richie plucked her out of her seat and sprinted towards the bathroom, holding her at arm’s length as if it would reduce the inevitable mess. Steve’s howling laughter followed him down the hall.

**23 rd June 2020**

“Richie?”, Carrie meekly popped her head into the office. She didn’t bother to knock anymore, knowing he wouldn’t get up to open the door while he was working.

“Uh-huh?”, Richie grunted, not taking his eyes off of his laptop screen.

“You sure you don’t want me to take her?”, she asked, gesturing to the sleeping toddler in Richie’s lap.

“I’ve told you before, Carrie, you’re my assistant, not my babysitter”, Richie replied, not unkindly.

“I know, but you have a deadline coming up. I can move her to her crib for you?”

“As soon as I move a muscle she’ll wake up”, he warns her, but moves to transfer Kelly into her arms anyway. Sure enough, as soon as he shifts her off of his lap, her eyes shot open and she clung to his shirt tightly.

“Dada! No! No Dada!” she protested, voice tiny and sleepy but adamant. Richie just quirked a slightly smug eyebrow at Carrie and cuddled Kelly closer to him again.

“Sorry, I just wanted to help”, Carrie fussed around them, pulling Richie’s desk chair back a little bit to give him more room. He smiled thankfully at her and gently brushed his fingers through Kelly’s hair as she fell back to sleep. As soon as she fell back asleep, Carrie’s phone rang, shrill and loud. Richie quickly covered Kelly’s ears to block out the noise as Carrie fumbled to answer her phone. 

“Hello? ...Yes, this is she…No, I’m afraid not, but I can pass a message one for you? ...No, sir, I’m _sure_ that Mr Tozier is unavailable”, she rolled her eyes theatrically and Richie snorted at her antics. “I’m sorry? I’ll tell him, but it won’t free up his schedule, sir… alright, hang on”, she pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed it to her chest to whisper at Richie, “It’s some weirdo fan, he said his name is Mike and to tell you _‘Losers never say die’?”_

“Mike, that’s the Goonies, you fucking hack”, Richie groaned, tossing his head backwards in despair.

“You know him? What should I do?” Carrie hissed.

“Just tell him I’m busy in a meeting or something”, he told her.

“Hi, Mr Hanlon? Yes, thank you for waiting, unfortunately Mr Tozier is in a very important meeting right now and… yes… yeah, I realise now I should have put you on hold. Hang on,” she pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at Richie apologetically.

“He heard me?” Richie asked.

“He heard you”. She confirmed.

Richie just sighed heavily and held his hand out for the phone. Carrie handed it to him and flipped open her planner, trying to look like she wasn’t eavesdropping. Richie took a deep, steadying breath before speaking in to the phone. 

“Mikey, hi! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Richie asked in the same overly-enthusiastic tone of voice he used when meeting fans.

 _“Hi Rich”,_ Mike’s familiar voice rang out from the speaker and, for just a second, it feels like nothing had changed, _“It’s good to know you’re alive”._

“Yeah, well… been busy, you know?” Richie chuckled awkwardly.

 _“Too busy to pick up a phone… for almost three years?”_ Mike’s change of tone had Richie feeling immediately defensive.

“Did you actually want something, Mike? Or did you just call to try and guilt trip me?” Richie sniped, rolling his eyes overdramatically at Carrie.

 _“Did you get your invitation?”_ Mike asked _._

“Invitation? Do you mean the stupid reunion thing?” Richie asked, thrown off by the sudden topic change.

 _“Yeah, we’re all going”,_ Mike told him.

“Good for you, have fun”, Richie tried to be nonchalant, as if _‘all’_ wasn’t circling around in his brain. Did _‘all’_ include Eddie, did Mike expect him to stand in a fucking high school gym with Eddie and pretend he wasn’t still pathetically hung up on him? Was he just calling to gloat about them _‘all’_ still being friends? 

_“You aren’t coming?”,_ Mike asked, sounding honestly disappointed. Maybe _‘all’_ included Richie after all. Did he want it to though?

His knee-jerk reaction kicked in, “Nope. Take some shots in my absence though, won’t you? Good talk, Mike.” 

Then Richie just hung up the phone and handed it back to Carrie before Mike could say another word. When it started to ring again she just switched it off and tucked it into her pocket.

“You okay?”, she asked gently, seeing the signs of an impending breakdown in her boss. He didn’t reply, just stood up, with his sleeping daughter cradled to his chest and carried her out of the room. He ducked into her nursey and tucked her gently into her crib. He grabbed her favourite plush, a bright green snake, and tucked it under her arm. He watched as she rolled over to cuddle it, then stood there for a second, just watching her breathe, before he exited the room and left the door cracked open a little bit so she wouldn’t wake up in the dark.

**

About an hour later, with Kelly still blissfully napping and Richie and Carrie working on his schedule for the next month, Richie’s own cell phone rang. He held the screen up to Carrie, showing the unknown number.

“Could be the mafia”, she shrugged

Richie laughed incredulously at her, “What the fuck would the mafia want with me?”

“I don’t know what you do in your spare time!”

“I don’t have any spare time! Hello?” He answered the phone, laughter still clear in his voice.

_“Don’t hang up!”_

The sound of Stanley Uris’ voice sent such a physical shock through him that he was stunned into silence.

_“Okay, I can hear you breathing so I know you’re still there.”_

Richie still couldn’t bring himself to speak.

 _“Nothing? Fine, I’ll talk then. You did a shitty thing Richie. You walked out on us after having a fucking breakdown. You changed your number and your doorman wouldn’t let us into your building. We thought you had done something stupid. The only reason we knew you were still alive was because we saw you on TMZ a month later out of your mind on cocaine and screaming at a bouncer outside some club! I have been terrified for the past three years that I was going to see your name trending on twitter because you fucking overdosed in some alleyway. And then! Then a year and half ago you go off the fucking grid all together. You weren’t seen in public for three fucking months, Richie! And I thought, oh Jesus this is it, it’s all over and I won’t even know where to turn up for his fucking funeral because he cut me out of his life”,_ Stan raged. His words were furious, but Richie knew him well enough could hear the sorrow and pain behind the anger.

“Stan”, he tried to chip in, whether to explain himself or crack a joke, he didn’t know.

_“Don’t you ‘Stan’ me! I missed you, Richie. I missed you. I have a fucking google alert set up for your name, I watch your shit, I follow you on twitter. I’m subscribed to your fucking podcast because I thought it was the only way I’d get to hear your voice again.”_

“Eddie had you first”, Richie mumbled.

Stan stayed silent for a second before hollering down the phone _, “What? Richie what does that even mean!”_

“I wasn’t going to turn you into the kids of a fucking divorce, Stan! It would have been awkward, we would have tried to keep hanging out, but I would make excuses to not be around Eddie and he would make excuses to not have to see me and eventually you would all have to choose between us. I wouldn’t put you through it, so I took myself off the board”, Richie insisted, willing Stan to understand.

_“Richie, I would hav-”_

“Don’t. You would have chosen Eddie and we both know it. I don’t blame you”, Richie interrupted him.

 _“We’ll talk about your lack of self-worth later. In person. Come home”,_ Stan implored him.

“I _am_ home, Stanley”, Richie sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, pretending he couldn’t feel tears stinging behind them.

 _“_ Home _home, Richie. Come back to Derry”_

“I’m not dragging my ass back to some shitty high-school reunion!” Richie protested.

 _“Who gives a fuck about a high school reunion! This can be a Losers reunion!”,_ Stan fired back.

“We can have one of those in New York if it’s what you really want, Stan”, Richie tried to appease him, already planning his excuses to get out of it when the time came.

 _“…You really did cut us out huh?”_ Stan said, his tone was more sad than it was judgemental, but Richie still felt himself getting defensive again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

 _“We don’t all live in New York anymore, Richie”,_ Stan replied, matter-of-factly.

“What?!” Richie had never actually considered this a possibility. He always found it kind of comforting that he was still walking the same streets as the Losers, or that he could go to one of them for help, even though he never did.

_“I’m in Georgia, Ben and Bev moved to Seattle, Mike went backpacking all over the goddamn country but I think he’s in Florida right now, Bill is in Los Angeles”_

“So only me and Eddie stayed in the big apple? That’s ironic”, Richie snorted, unable to keep the bitterness entirely out of his voice.

 _“Well…”_ Stan started.

“What?”

 _“We don’t actually know where Eddie is”,_ Stan told him, sounding grave.

“What do you mean you don’t know where he is? He’s not a kid at a grocery store, Stan, you didn’t just lose sight of him!”

 _“Oh my god, please never have kids”,_ Stan sighed, sounding extremely put out.

“…Yeah, no could you imagine?”, Richie responded, a strangled little laugh forcing its way up his throat.

_“Richie, we never saw Eddie after you two broke up”_

“What?!”

 _“Yeah, he pretty much did exactly what you did. His number went dead, his emails went unread, he blocked us all on every social media platform he had. You both just completely ghosted us, man”,_ Stan explained, the hurt seeping back into his voice. Richie was alarmed to hear the strangled, clogged up voice of a man on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know”, Richie replied, slightly numb. His mind was miles away, thinking about the years he missed out on with his best friends. Years he gave up for a man who didn’t even take them.

Stan, sensing weakness, went for the jugular, _“Just…come home, Richie. For me?”_

“I…yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll be there”, Richie finally gave in.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Stan’s lunch hour ended and he was forced to hang up and get back to work.

“All good?” Carrie asked, Richie jumped the height of himself, having completely forgotten she was there.

“Jesus! I swear to God I’m going to put a bell on you! Yeah, were fine”, he told her, hand pressed dramatically to his racing heart.

“Oh good! Do you need me to book you a flight to Maine?” she asked with a bright smile, already taking out her phone.

“Yeah, please… Wait, did I tell you about the reunion?” he asked, wracking his brains to try and remember.

“Um… yes?” Carrie squeaked, wide-eyed.

“Carrie”, Richie tried to sound stern.

“I’m sorry! Mr Hanlon called me back while you were with Kelly! He sent me pictures to prove you knew each other and he told me how much they all missed you and I figured it would be good for you to see them again, you know? So I gave him your cell number. Please don’t fire me” she rambled, speaking so quickly that the words all rushed together.

“Jesus, take a breath Carrie!” Richie balked.

“Yessir”, she replied, placing her head between her knees and gasping for air.

“I’m not mad. Well, I’m a little mad, but you aren’t fired. Fuck knows I couldn’t remember to put my shoes on without you most days.”, Richie told her, rubbing circles on her back in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

“I just want you to be happy”, Carrie spoke to her knees, but Richie assumed it was aimed at him.

“Oh, kiddo”, Richie wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hauled her into a sideways hug. The dam finally broke and the tears that had been threatening to fall since he heard Mike’s voice finally escaped.

“M’twenty-four, don’t call me a kid”, Carrie huffed, even as she brought her arms up to return the hug.

“Tiny baby, small little child, a teenager at best!” Richie crowed wetly, squeezing her tighter.

“I’m literally four years younger than you”, she groaned.

“I’m sorry? You’ll have to speak up, my ears are failing me in my old age”, Richie laughed.

Carrie opened her mouth to fire back, but she was interrupted by a tiny voice calling from down the hall.

“Dada! ‘Wake Dada!”, Kelly hollered as the familiar sound of her rattling the bars of her crib rang through the apartment.

“I think Kelly might be awake”, Carrie told him, curling a hand around her ear as if she was straining to hear her.

“Really? Not sure what could have given you that idea”, he commented mildly, heaving himself off the couch and heading to retrieve his daughter.

“You want me to start looking at flights?”, Carrie called after him.

“Yes please!”, he threw back over his shoulder, wiping his face dry so Kelly wouldn’t worry.

**_25 th June 2020_ **

Two days later found _‘Team Trashmouth’_ (a name Richie and Carrie created that Steve insisted he hated, but Richie had heard him use it without being prompted at least twice) gathered around Richie’s dining room table with Kelly happily playing in her bouncer. The surface of the table was covered in notebooks, planners, a large calendar and, in Carrie’s case, a rainbow-unicorn trapper keeper that she had gleefully informed Richie _‘was vintage’._

“Okay, so, if we move the book launch to the second week of July, we should be able to swing this”, Steve declared, marking the calendar to demonstrate.

“No, he’s got the Vegas run starting on the tenth, the book launch will be too close”, Carrie responded, pointing out the three weeks blocked out immediately after Steve’s mark.

“Well we can’t push it forward, I’ve got that Disney announcement tomorrow and they wanted the week exclusively for marketing and interviews”, Richie told them, circling the little pair of mouse ears he’d drawn in his own planner to remind him.

“Shit, why do you have to be so busy, man?” Steve groaned, tossing his pencil down.

“It’s the burden of the monumentally talented”, Richie puffed out a put-upon sigh.

Carrie stared at him for a second before snorting out a laugh, Steve just groaned again and dropped his head onto the table.

“Fuck it, let’s just announce the book today”, Richie declared.

Carrie just gaped at him, trying to decide if he was serious or not, “what?”

Richie nodded enthusiastically, unlocking his phone and waving it at her, “I’ll just tweet it!” he exclaimed, as if it was the smarted thing he’d ever said.

He was already typing when Carrie snapped out of her shock and snatched the phone from his hands, “NO! You’ve got a signing at the Times Square Barnes and Noble booked for the week after next!”

“So call them! We’ll do a surprise signing today!”, Richie fired back, willing her to understand the genius of his idea.

“It would be a pretty good PR stunt, to be honest”, Steve admitted reluctantly, voice muffled by the table still mushed against his face.

“Neither of you have any respect for my organisational skills”, Carrie grumbled, already pulling her phone out to call the book store. She walked to the living room and flopped onto the couch, posture directly contradicting what Richie called her ‘Phone Voice’ which actually sounded like a professional personal assistant, not a twenty-four year old kid who Richie had seen eat thirteen hot dogs in a row after dropping a tab of acid.

“So, book today, Disney between tomorrow and the third, then fly to Maine after your last interview?” Steve asked, finally lifting his head from the table and catching Richie’s attention.

“Sounds good to me”, Richie shrugged.

“Great, what about the little one?” Steve asked, gesturing at Kelly, still happily bouncing.

“What about her?”, Richie asked, puzzled.

“You’ll be cutting it tight to get some bonding time in between Maine and Vegas”, Steve explained. 

“Shit. I forgot about that”, Richie groaned.

“You sure you can’t take her to Vegas?” Steve wheedled.

“No, man, she’d be stuck in a hotel room all day, unless Carrie could take her out, and I’ve said it before-”

“She’s your assistant, not your babysitter, yeah, yeah”, Steve finished, with the matter-of-fact tone that came with repetition, “You could take her out yourself, ya’know”, Steve pointed out.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Rich, but it’s getting out of hand”, Steve replied, undeterred.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Steve”, Richie pleaded.

“It’s not fair to her, Richie! It was okay to keep her a secret for a while, when you weren’t exactly America’s sweetheart. You were protecting her then, but now? Man, you’re doing a Disney movie! It’s okay for you to have a kid. Nobody’s gonna’ try to take her from you”, Steve told him gently.

“I… I don’t know if I can, Steve. I don’t want her in the public eye. She’s safer here, you know?”

“Safety is overrated Richie. You can’t keep her coddled to keep her safe forever”, Richie had a sudden, sickening image of Sonia Kaspbrak in his head. He remembered tiny little Eddie being ordered to come home right after school, because she wanted to keep him _‘safe’_. He remembered Eddie never being allowed to play outside or come to birthday parties. He remembered Eddie eating cake for the first time at thirteen, EpiPen clutched tightly in his fist because his mother had lied to him about a severe egg allergy. Richie’s stomach lurched and, without consciously moving, he found himself gagging and dry heaving into the kitchen sink.

“Fuck! Richie?” Steve launched himself from his seat to Richie’s side.

“Dada ‘ick?” Kelly’s worried, wobbly little voice cut through the sound of Richie’s heaving.

Richie, thankful they hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, took gasping breaths to calm himself before straightening up. He brushed away Steve’s concerned fretting and turned to face his daughter.

“Yeah, princess, Daddy was a little sick. I’m okay now though, see?” he said, splaying his arms out and doing a little shimmy, as if to prove his stomach had settled down. Kelly giggled and raised her arms up to make grabby hands at him. Richie, unable to deny her anything, immediately scooped her up and settled her on his hip.

“How do you feel about a trip to meet some of Dada’s friends, princess?”


End file.
